


maybe even brighter

by story_telling_sage



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 'Swasome Santa Gift Exchange, F/F, Gayyyyyyyyyyyyyy, they're gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_telling_sage/pseuds/story_telling_sage
Summary: Ford starts her sophomore year as a hockey manager and single. By the end of her first semester, at least one of those things has changed. Given her ever growing collection of color coded binders, she was defintely still the SMH team manager.





	maybe even brighter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palateens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/gifts).



> Written for palateens for the 'swasome santa gift exchange! You can check me out at omgcaitfarms.tumblr.com. I hope you enjoy this piece. All of your writer is absolutely wonderful so I was definitely a little star stuck when writing this. Happy holidays and please enjoy the fluffy lesbians.

Foxtrot. The nickname was still new on her tongue, but Ford found she was getting used to it fairly quickly. She liked nicknames, and while she didn’t quite understand hockey, nicknames were obviously very important. She had already started a spreadsheet to make sure she kept everyone’s names straight as best she could.

Bitty was the new captain. Small, blonde, baker. A lot of B adjectives made Bitty probably the easiest to remember. Word association was a simple trick

Ollie and Wix. Ford still couldn’t remember which was which, but she knew they were inseparable. And most likely dating. Actually, definitely dating.  Ford wondered if there was a rule about that.

The Frogs. Nursery, Chowder, and Dex. Also inseparable. Also most likely dating. She had seen all of them at the Pride meetings too, but recognized Dex from their trans support group specifically. She hadn’t known he played hockey, but it was nice to see the friendly face.

Then there were her fellow sophomores. Ford didn’t know either of them, but she would now. Tango. Tangerine? Italian? Ford hadn’t quite figured out a good word association for him yet. Whiskey was easier. His amber eyes were a good give away, same with the dignified way he carried himself.

Bitty. Ollie. Wix. Dex. Chowder. Nursey. Tango. Whiskey.

It was like a new mantra for her to follow. She just had to think of this like a new cast to get to know.

Ford had a good memory, that’s what made her good at this job. Color coded binders and strategically highlighted spreadsheets might seem like overkill to someone on the outside but that’s the only way someone manages to keep track of not just a 4.0 GPA, but a full scale stage production of Hamlet, and make sure hockey players ended up exactly where they needed to be. Her best friend in high school, Mitch, had told her once the prerequisite to being a stage manager was to be small, terrifying, and loud.

Ford -- Foxtrot -- checked all of those boxes gleefully. She grew up in a small house with a big family. Being loud came easy. Foxtrot attributed most of her various skillset to growing up like she did. Older brothers, younger brothers, sisters, and siblings did a lot to prepare one for the future, Even so, somethings managed to catch her by surprise.

“Uh, hi?” a voice called out, causing the small manager to startle out of her thoughts. Ford quickly pulled her earbuds out and looked up at a taller girl with the nicest smile Foxtrot had ever seen. She certainly wasn’t on the hockey team, and Ford had never seen her around the theater. Pride club was more likely, but Ford missed a lot of meetings.

Either way, Ford didn’t know her. Not yet anyway.

“Hi,” she said, smiling back. “What’s up?” The girl pushed her hair back, almost nervously, but her quirked lips didn’t give the impression of anything but confidence if slight exasperation.

“I’m in desperate need of coffee and companionship that isn’t compiled of sports players or Poly-Sci majors. The coffee's on me if you’d like to oblige.”

Ford wasn’t all that good at making friends, wasn’t used to this type of interaction, but she didn’t really mind. The girl was smiling at her again. That smile could melt the snow that was slowly piling up in banks outside.

“Well, I never say no to coffee.” Ford quickly packed up the binder she had had open (she had been categorizing props they were going to need) and slid it easily into her bookbag. Ford’s bookbag was her pride and joy. That sounded silly, but it was one of the first things she had bought when she got to Samwell and had immediately set to work customizing the blank canvas bag. Colorful pins and patches adorned the outside from various club meetings and her favorite shows.

“I like your pins,” the girl said as they started to walk. The girl wasn’t bundled up at all for the Massachusetts weather. “That’s Idina Menzel, right?”

Ford nodded, her eyes widening in surprise just slightly. Her smile grew though.

“Yeah! She was, like, practically my gay awakening. I didn’t know I could fall in love with _a voice_ until Rent, and Wicked just sent me head over heels. Do you follow theater much?”

The girl nodded excitedly. “Yeah, my mom loves it and takes me to shows that come through town. There’s this really cool outdoor theater we go to sometimes in the summer and it’s _awesome_. God, I’d kill to see her perform in person someday. Though, I think I love Arielle Jacobs more, but can you blame me?”

“Not at all! I’d die for Arielle Jacobs. And, like, all of the original cast of Mamma Mia!”

The girl was smiling again, even brighter than before. Ford could swoon. “I’m Cait, by the way. Cait Farms.”

“It’s nice to meet you. My friends call my Foxtrot. Or Ford.”

Cait was easy to be friends with. Easier than anyone else Foxtrot had ever known, actually. She appreciated musicals but didn’t get high and mighty about her favorites and the classics and everything that made Ford wish she didn’t hang out with people who thought that if you liked Wicked you must be a basic bitch.

They were even in some of the same classes. Ford had taken almost all of her gen eds in high school and Cait was just one year older. Their majors weren’t quite the same, but Ford’s English degree did some overlapping with Cait’s psychology major. They didn’t share any classes this semester, but Cait made a great study buddy.

It also didn’t hurt that when Cait looked at Ford, she felt warm all over. Like Cait was looking just at her. Or that she’d sometimes send Ford random pictures of foxes or cute dogs. It didn’t hurt that Ford was probably falling in love.

She was barely a sophomore, not even twenty. Falling in love was just silly, at her age, but that did nothing to stop the budding crush growing inside of her stomach. The further into the semester it got, the bigger and bigger her crush got.

Ford spent a lot of her time at the hockey house getting to know the boys and working through the chaos and Cait was often there visiting her friend Chris.

“We’re not dating,” Cait said one day when Ford must have spent too long staring at where she sat perched in Chowder’s lap. Ford just blinked owlishly.

“Oh, no- I, uh, I didn’t think you were.” She must be blushing. Ford could _feel_ her face heating up. Damn her traitorous lesbian heart.

Cait just smiled and went back to reading her book and Ford tried to refocus. Did this mean she had a chance? Did this mean Ford was interested? Oh, this was just like that time back in her senior year when a girl ended a text message with three lipstick imprint emojis and Ford spent two weeks trying to figure out if that meant she was flirting.

(It didn’t. But still, what does that mean???)

Eventually, their sporadic coffee dates turned into weekly meetings - Ford didn’t want to call them dates, not yet - and they spent every Wednesday in the lounge watching Food Network and viciously yelling at the competitors on Chopped.

It was nice. It was so nice. And Ford was just falling deeper into love.

“I was wondering,” Cait said one day over coffee. November had rolled around and so had the holiday flavored lattes. Cait was quietly sipping her own white chocolate mocha while Ford worked her way through her gingerbread mocha. They had split a piece of pumpkin loaf, their fingers occasionally brushing when they both reached to tear off a piece.

Ford looked up, nodding for Cait to keep talking. She was biting her bottom lip and Ford could spot her nervousness easier than she had at that very first meeting in the quad. Cait wasn’t smiling, not quite, so Ford smiled instead.

“Well, I was wondering…” Cait looked down at her latte, not meeting Ford’s eyes. Her face was slowly starting to turn red and nervousness squirmed in Ford’s stomach. “Do you- um, _doyouwanttogoonadatethisweekend?”_

Ford was almost positive she hadn’t heard her right. Cait wanted to go on a date? With _her_ ? It took Ford’s brain so long to process what her friend (possibly her best friend)(possibly her _girlfriend_!) had said that they must have lapsed into awkward silence as Cait just turned redder and redder.

“Yes!” Ford finally said, when her mouth caught up with her brain. “I mean- yes, yes! I’d- I’d love to, Cait.” She excitedly reached across the table, grabbing one of Cait’s hands and grinning. Cait looked up, finally meeting her eyes.

She was smiling too, just as bright as the day they met, maybe even brighter. They didn’t stop smiling all day.


End file.
